


shortcut

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not quite the shortcut either of them had in mind, but in the end, it doesn't really matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shortcut

Rose can just hear the buzz of the sonic screwdriver over the crashing of the rain and she presses closer to the Doctor in a vain attempt to avoid getting any wetter than she already is.

The lock on the door finally gives and they rush inside, trailing mud over the faded linoleum. The Doctor shuts the door, twisting the lock as Rose squeezes water from her hair.

"Bit wet, this," he says, turning to her with a sheepish smile on his face.

"A bit," she replies, glaring at him as she peels her sopping jacket from her arms and flings it to the floor. "'This is a shortcut, Rose, we're almost there!'"

"Well, it _was_ a shortcut," he says, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing vaguely with his other hand. "It was just... longer and slightly less... shortcut-like than I initially thought."

Rose shakes her head and stares around the room, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Well, here's a piece of good luck. We're in a laundromat."

The Doctor looks around, taking in the slightly dilapidated washers and dryers around the perimeter of the room.

"So we are." He frowns slightly, tugging gently on his ear. "And – and why is that good luck, exactly?"

"Because it means that we don't have to sit around in wet clothes while we wait for the rain to let up," she replies, like it's the most obvious answer in the world, and tugs her t-shirt off over her head.

He swallows hard as he stares at her smooth stomach, shining wetly in the dim lighting. Her jeans follow and she twists them in her hands, squeezing out the excess water before she looks up at him.

"You want to sit around in wet clothes all day?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He shakes his head quickly and shrugs his coat off, letting it fall heavily to the floor. His suit follows until he's standing in his underwear, just like she is.

She grins slyly as she looks at him, hooking her thumb over the side of her knickers and tugging them down very slightly.

"Can't sit around in wet knickers either," she murmurs, tongue poking between her teeth as her grin widens.

There's a low tingle in his stomach as he watches her edge her knickers down a little more and when they skim down her legs to bunch around her feet he can't resist any longer.

He strides forward, one arm slipping around her waist as the fingers of his other hand tangle in her wet hair, and he covers her mouth with his, pushing his tongue inside when her lips part.

They stumble back until her legs bump against one of the tables situated in the middle of the room and his hands drop to her thighs, lifting her up and setting her on the edge of the table.

She pulls him to her, her hands sliding down his sides to push his underwear down, wasting no time to get what she wants. When he's finally free of this last bit of clothing, he grips her legs and pulls them high against his sides, wrapping them around his middle as he pushes into her.

Her mouth falls open in a gasp and she grips the edge of the table with one hand and his shoulder with the other, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts and taking him as deep as she can.

He leans forward, his hands sliding down her legs to grip her thighs once more, and places his cheek against her jaw, nudging her head up so he can press his lips to her neck, running his tongue over her skin and tasting the drops of rainwater that still linger.

She shivers and one hand slips to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair.

He follows a drop of water down her chest and catches it between her breasts; he can see her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra and has a sudden desire to see all of her bare before him.

He kisses his way back up to her neck and whispers softly into her ear. "Take off your bra."

His arms slide around her waist to support her as her hands slip around to her back, tugging the hooks undone and pulling the wet garment from her body. Once it's gone he leans forward, pushing her back and lowering his mouth to her newly exposed breasts.

He flicks his tongue over one erect nipple, relishing her sudden gasp and the way her fingers tighten in his hair. He nips at it gently with his teeth and she moans, her hips jerking forward suddenly. He groans and pulls her up, matching the movement of her hips and pushing deeper inside. Her hands drop to his arse and pull him even closer, something he wouldn't have thought possible. Her heels press against the backs of his thighs and he braces his hands on the surface of the table, setting a faster pace and listening as her gasps increase in pitch and frequency.

He can feel her heart thrumming in her chest, can feel it in the rapid pulse in her neck, imagines he can almost hear her blood rushing through her veins.

Her breath is warm on his neck, gasping his name, and he can tell she's almost there.

He pulls one hand from the table and slips it down between them, his fingers pressing against her clit; she cries out a moment later, her head falling back and then forward. Her teeth scrape against his shoulder as she clenches around him and when she takes his skin in her teeth, biting down gently, he comes as well, a loud groan escaping his lips as he buries his face in her hair.

There isn't a sound for several minutes except the continued pounding of the rain outside and their breathing inside as they come down.

He touches his lips to hers before he steps away, bending to rummage through the pockets of his trench coat to find the sonic screwdriver. He sonics one of the dryers into operation and tosses their clothes inside, setting the cycle before turning back to face her.

She's still sitting on the table, smiling vaguely at him, the flush of her arousal still evident on the skin of her chest. He walks to her, the corner of his mouth rising when her legs spread slightly.

"Got a while before they're done," she murmurs. "What do you think we should do?"

He grins as he presses between her legs, dropping a kiss to her lips before he kneels in front of her, gripping her hips and tugging her right to the edge of the table. His hands slide around to stroke the skin of her inner thighs and he raises his eyes to her face, licking his lips and noticing the way her pupils dilate as she stares at the motions of his tongue. His grin widens as he pushes her legs further apart and leans forward.

"Oh, I have a few ideas."  



End file.
